


Relaxation

by HoneyGrunge



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-binary Reader - Freeform, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: Lambert isn't the best when it comes to communicating, so you take it upon yourself to get him to open up in an unconventional way.
Relationships: Lambert/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Relaxation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> This was a commission that I decided to upload here with the commissioner's agreement.

_ “Stupid fucking lizard,”  _ Lambert hissed between gritted teeth. His sword was wedged deep in a draconid’s neck, having punctured all the way through the deadly creature’s spine and into its stone-like shoulder blade. A generous splatter of the reptile’s blood had partially dried to a dark maroon on his cheeks, which lent an even fiercer edge to the fiery scowl that usually graced his strikingly handsome face.

Eskel glanced up from his task of carving off the monster’s valuable scales and gave Lambert a soft smile. The gentle witcher found no annoyance in Lambert’s constant bitching, having grown used to it when they were boys. In fact, it was a comforting constant for Eskel. For all the anger Lambert stored in his stocky body, he had just as much loyalty to go with it.

“Just be glad your innards are still safe in your belly, that last strike was a close one.”

Lambert grunted and hopped backwards after one last tug successfully freed his silver blade. He leaned in and spat on the dragon before sighing and wiping the sword.

“Hopefully the next one gets me.”

“You know you shouldn’t say things like that,” Eskel snapped, his eyes narrowing and his fist clenching harder around his hunting dagger. Lambert snorted.

“Yes, mother.”

“What would [Y/N] say?”

Lambert paused, casting Eskel a slightly annoyed yet guilty glance. 

“They’re not here so it doesn’t matter.”

“If you say so,” Eskel relented, slipping the last of the scales into his pack and standing up before sheathing his knife. “How are things between you two?”

“Fine,” Lambert said with a curt shrug, turning to begin the trek home before he could see Eskel’s eye roll. He hated sharing any personal information, even with someone as close to him as Eskel.

“See you tomorrow then,” Eskel said, tossing Lambert a sack of the cleaned scales.

“Yeah. See you.”

  
  
  
  


Lambert trudged through the mud as lightning illuminated Kaer Morhen’s ivy-covered stone. The gate was open as always, because creatures of horror and chaos rarely ventured up near the dreaded stronghold. Rain dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, sloughing off the crusted blood and running it down into the leather bindings of his armor. He dismounted his horse and led her to the stable, then double-checked his supplies before heading off towards your shared quarters.

He longed to leave this dark, musty place, filled with its shadows and ghostly memories of the boys and trainers Lambert grew up with. All of them were either dead or worlds away, because none of them wanted to be trapped inside this decaying graveyard of a castle. He’d almost saved up enough coin for the both of you to move away, but work was slow and settlements kept moving further south, making it a time-consuming and laborious process just to land basic contracts.

The result of this entire situation was a particularly hair-trigger Lambert who never seemed to smile, no matter how hard you tried. You were just finishing up the stew when you heard the door crack open and twisted around to see Lambert give you a weary nod.

“Lambert! How was the hunt?” you asked. He stalked over to the kitchen table as you wiped your hands free of carrot juice and gave him a genuine smile.

“We got a draconid, a green wyvern,” he boasted, a proud smirk breaking through his glum frown. “Five pounds of scales and ten pounds of skin to be dried.”

“Wonderful! Perhaps now you can craft the grandmaster armor you’ve been planning.”

He nodded and sat at the table, his brow creasing as his mind wandered back into whatever dark place it had been before. You pulled out a chair of your own and sat as well, waiting for him to look at you before speaking.

“What’s wrong?”

He shrugged and squinted at you, not appearing very eager to get into it.

“Same old shit, babe.”

But he looked, well, more  _ Lambert  _ than he usually was. You let the defensiveness slide and leaned back to cross your arms, formulating a plan as he got into the wheel of cheese sitting next to the stove. With Lambert it was never easy: he was a particularly stubborn clam. It took the right amount of effort and sometimes sex to get him relaxed enough to talk, and even then he was still evasive. But you had something up your sleeve that just might crack him open. A few days ago you’d made a good barter with traveling merchants: one of your older cows for 100 coin. You’d kept it from Lambert, wanting it to be a surprise, and it seemed that the right moment for it had arrived.

“You’ve got that look on your face again,” Lambert said through a mouthful of cheese. He looked wary; he knew you were cooking up some devilish plan.

“Well,” you said as sweetly as you could, “I have a little gift for you. For us.” You pulled the coin pouch out of your apron pocket and watched his eyebrows shoot up.

“Where the hell did you get that??”

“I sold Bergeron yesterday. He wasn’t any good to us anymore-” a whine from Lambert interrupted you: he’d been planning to ask Vesemir to make steaks out of the old beast, “-and I think I found a better use for his profits than steaks.”

“What could possibly be better than  _ Vesemir’s steaks _ ?” he whined, flopping back in his chair dramatically and giving you a withering pout.

“I was thinking...a trip to the Emerald Rose.”

He stared at you blankly.

“You uh...want me to fuck a whore? I knew you were kinky but  _ damn _ .”

“They rent out special rooms to couples,” you explained, ignoring his smartass response.

He perked up and cocked a brow before letting a sly smile wander across his face.

“What are we waiting for then?”

“Go take a bath and the stew should be ready. Then we’ll leave,” you said. He scowled at being made to wait so you leaned in for a kiss. He grumbled but still pressed his lips against yours; you were always surprised at how soft his lips were. He took good care of himself, despite giving off such a devil-may-care attitude.

“I just need to not think tonight,” he whispered after pulling away, then got up to bathe.

“I know, dear one. And you won’t have to.”

  
  
  
  


“It’s kinda run down, don’t you think?” Lambert grumbled, irritated at the long ride. He was in front of you on the horse so you took the opportunity to smack his abdomen in annoyance.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover. I’ve seen the rooms, they’re nice.”

“If you say so,” he sighed, slipping off his shroud and sliding off the horse before reaching up to help you. He nuzzled your forehead on the way down and scented your hair; you could feel the goosebumps lining his arms as his witcher senses reacted to his favorite perfume/cologne of yours.

“Mmmmm I love that one,” he purred. His catlike pupils dilated and his grip tightened around your waist, but you refused to let him spur this on too quickly. It would be a night of relaxation and togetherness. Not a fuck and snore, where he let you run your fingers through his hair but still keeping his emotions locked away, hidden beneath a spiny layer of anger and sarcasm until he fell asleep.

Lambert scowled when you gently pushed him off and advanced to the door, but he kept his mouth shut and followed on your heels like the ever-anxious guard dog he was. The door creaked as you stepped inside and you couldn’t help the smirk when his eyebrows shot up in response to the impressive decor of the room. The theme was black and gold, and the man behind the front desk was even managing a look of slight interest in his guests.

“Evening! Ah, I remember you,” the concierge said, giving you a slight bow. “Come to rent out a room, have you?”

You pulled out the coin purse and handed it to him, watching as he shrewdly counted it then added it to his own pouch and turned around to select a key off the wall.

“Every room undergoes a strict sanitation schedule after every usage, and of course we asked in advance that you bring your own gags, toys, etc as we do not provide those for hygiene purposes. We do, however, provide rope, whips, and cuffs, which of course are sanitized after each guest and replaced every 3 months. Now, if you please, follow me.”

The man swept out from behind the counter and headed upstairs. Lambert gave you a small brow wiggle and followed you upstairs, pinching the back of your thigh on the way up and chuckling when you squeaked. FInally, you were standing outside the door to your room, which the concierge unlocked before beckoning you inside. Then he was gone, and you were alone with your witcher.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms and taking in the look of shock on Lambert’s face as he stared at the rack of sexual equipment mounted on the main wall. “What do you think?”

“I mean, I just didn’t know you were the type to want me to use this stuff on you, that’s all,” he said. His tone was slightly mocking but the glint in his eye gave away the fact that he was, in fact,  _ very  _ aroused.

“It’s not for me,” you said quietly. He gave you a sharp look and scoffed.

“You want to tie  _ me  _ up??”

“I think it could do you some good. I think it could help you relax,” you whispered, walking over to him and slipping your arms up onto his shoulders. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed those drawings you hide in your armory.”

Lambert blinked and blushed for the first time you could remember upon realizing that you’d found his porn stash. He tripped over his words and tried to recover, but it just wasn’t happening.

“I-well I mean-yeah I like bondage. I just didn’t know if I wanted to try it, that’s all,” he grumbled, allowing you to take his hand and lead him over to the bed.

“The loss of control scares you?” you asked, and he nodded. “It doesn’t have to feel like a trap. If you don’t let it. A big bad witcher like you can handle that, don’t you think?”

He bristled at your implication that he couldn’t take it and you couldn’t help the feeling of triumph that flooded your system once the look of determination set into his brow. You’d learned long ago that all you needed to do was challenge him and whatever you wanted done would almost certainly happen.

“I can take it,” he hissed, standing up and moodily beginning to remove his armor. You walked over to the wall as he undressed and ran your hand across a painful looking whip, instead opting for a smaller, less intimidating one to start off with. Next you chose your rope, a golden number that would match his eyes and compliment his sun-kissed skin. Then came the cuffs, and then you walked to your own satchel to fetch the gag. You’d secretly bought it from a traveling merchant a while ago, but hadn’t used it yet. By the time you had it all picked out Lambert was down to his briefs. He was watching you with a look of mixed affection of trepidation, but as you stepped close his gaze grew hungry.

“Sit down,” you whispered, and he couldn’t help but comply. He still looked like he wanted to be sassy but it seemed as though even just the thought of bondage had him placated, the most submissive you’d seen him in your time together. 

“As you wish, darling,” he purred, folding his arms behind his back as you slipped the rope over his shoulders and started looping the material over his chest to create a simple but very effective pattern for your own enjoyment. When you were satisfied you tied a knot around his arms and snapped the cuffs into place just in case he got too feisty. As soon as he felt the cold metal touch his overheated skin he started, and you could feel his warm breath puff onto your shoulder when he twisted his head in an attempt to see what you were doing.

“It’s too cold,” he bitched, but instead of removing them you smiled and placed a soft kiss where his neck met his shoulder.

“Is it too much for my strong witcher?”

“Oh shut the hell up,” he hissed, but he was grinning as he said it.

Next you slipped your hands up onto his temples and gave him a gentle massage before slipping the gag over his head and securing it beneath his chin.  _ That  _ really did the trick. Being unable to say anything seemed to have more of an effect on him that being tied up. His muscles visibly relaxed, and although you could still see the remnants of a stubborn scowl it was much less pronounced than before.

“Bounce your head off the pillow twice if you want the gag removed,” you whispered.

You slipped out from behind him and he tilted backwards with an alarmed but muffled cry; his lightning fast witcher reflexes thwarted by his bonds as he thumped down onto the bed. He chewed at the gag and grumbled while you stretched out your hands and began massaging his pecs, reveling in the way his brows reacted to the unexpected touch. You rubbed circles into his taught muscles and slipped a leg over his abdomen so that you could be sitting on his belly, for better leverage and eye contact. Lambert was quiet at first but eventually began melting into the intimacy: he let his eyes slide shut and small sighs of pleasure were escaping from around the gag. After a few minutes you found yourself in a mindless rhythm, just basking in his enjoyment before finally deciding to move lower. You kept the massage going, watching him closely to see his excitement building to border on frustration. He mumbled into the gag when you were finally sitting on his shins, simply rubbing his thighs and ignoring the prominent bulge in his briefs. 

At this point he was squirming all over the place, obviously discontent with something, then he gave you the signal to remove the gag by flopping his head onto the pillow twice. You reached up to undo it and as soon as it was off he sighed.

“You seemed to like it at first,” you pointed out. Not judging, simply curious.

“I did. I just...I’d rather be able to talk.”

“Fine by me,” you affirm, then move down his body to pick up from where you left off.

Lambert was silent for a few moments, then spoke up in a smaller voice than before.

“Do you ever think about the end?”

“What end?”

“Come on, you know what I meant. When you do that human thing where you die at like 70?”

You paused, frozen for a moment as you processed what he’d just said. Obviously, you had thought about it once or twice, but for you it just wasn’t that big of an issue. Only now did you realize that it was probably quite different for Lambert, since he was someone who would live to be hundreds of years old.

“I mean...yeah. I’ve wondered about it. But...why do you bring it up now?”

“I dunno, I just-” he broke off the sentence and sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”

For such a small sentence, it was a lot to unpack. Was this why he had been so irritated and grumpy the past few months? Was it in part why he never really talked about his feelings, because he knew that if he started the conversation, he might not like where it could go? You leaned in to kiss his chest then grazed your lips up until you were suckling his bottom lip.

“You said you didn’t want to think tonight,” you whispered.

“Well I obviously lied,” he snorted, but he still looked worried. It was etched into his tense jaw and a frown was apparent in the deep lines between his brows.

“I promise, we’ll talk about this afterwards. But tonight is for us, for you. For relaxing, and connecting. Don’t let fear take that away from you.”

Lambert nodded and you slipped off of him to lie at his side. After he shifted, you wrapped your arm around him and cuddled, since his dark train of thought seemed to have decimated most of his interest in sex. Not that it bothered you; as you’d said, tonight was for connection more than anything else. You tilted your head up only to find him staring down at you with an expression of protective love that you’d seen flash through his mask of disdain every now and again.

“I’m...sorry. For not telling you what I’m thinking,” he whispered. 

The apology was surprising, coming from a man whose only methods of communication were sarcasm and insults.

“I just don’t want you to handle it on your own,” you said, and he nodded. Almost as soon as the moment was there, it was gone, and Lambert grunted in annoyance.

“My hands are falling asleep so you’re gonna do something naughty, get a goddamn move on,” he whined, wiggling until you rolled your eyes and sat up to resume the night of fun. After all, according to the clock you only had about an hour left.

Instead of going back to massaging him you went straight to his bulge this time, helping him work his arousal back up and preparing yourself before lowering yourself onto his erection; giving yourself over to the pleasure that only he could offer you. You reveled in his helplessness as he strained against the rope, but from the look on his face it was clear that he was finally letting the intimacy overwhelm his overly stressed mind. Time seemed to both slow down and speed up at the same time; nothing else mattered as you stared into each other’s eyes and marveled at the fact that you had both been so lucky as to find one another in such a crazed, deadly world. Lambert cried your name as he finished, and once you were done you undid his ropes to allow him to fully embrace you. You could think of nothing else but your love for him as he stroked your hair and back.

Kingdoms would fall and empires would rise, but through it all you would still have each other, until fate dictated otherwise.

  
  
  
  


Lambert rubbed your wrist with his thumb as the horse traveled back up the path to Kaer Morhen. Your thighs, among other things, were pleasantly aching as the horse’s movements reverberated up through your body, but it was the best kind of ache. The kind of ache only Lambert could give. It would have been lovely to stay the night, but unfortunately you simply didn’t have the coin, and Lambert was picky about sleeping in familiar places anyway. Plus, he needed a warm bath to soothe the mild whip marks you'd administered once he'd started getting sassy.

“Listen, I’m gonna need you to walk a little funny for the next few days so the others think I’m a sex god,” Lambert chuckled, breaking the silence and clucking to move the horse onto the correct path.

“Oh, I don’t need to try, it’ll be genuine,” you said, feeling him straighten up a little at your praise. Gods, the man was a whore for any compliment that even remotely referenced his cock. 

“I wanted to talk about what we talked about earlier,” you said after a moment of silence. Lambert stiffened and sighed, but he didn’t refuse.

“I know you don’t want me to worry about your fears, my love. But I need you to talk to me. I need to know what you’re thinking. We need to talk about our fears together. It’s pointless to suffer alone and in silence. Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean it’s the best option.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but he wasn’t his usual brand of glum or sarcastic. He sounded  _ relieved _ .

“You don’t have to talk now, but promise you’ll talk to me more?”

Lambert’s hand tightened on your wrist and you saw his head nod in the soft moonlight filtering down through the trees.

“I promise, dear one.”

You couldn’t help but smile and press your face into his back as you neared the gates of Kaer Morhen. Before you passed through, Lambert cleared his throat and adopted a suave tone, the one he used when he was trying to butter you up to do something he liked.

“So...about that thing you did back there...the thing with your mouth…”

“Mhm?”  
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight unless you do it again. Insomnia, you know how it gets me sometimes.”

“Say please,” you teased, pinching the taut skin of his surprisingly sensitive abdomen through his tunic.

He let out a long suffering sigh and muttered to himself before finally giving in.

“Please?”

“Well would you look at that. Looks like you  _ can  _ teach an old dog new tricks.”

“Fuck you,” he laughed before reigning in the horse and helping you off.

As you jokingly bickered with him up the steps of the castle, you couldn’t help but wonder at how much of a breakthrough you’d had with him tonight. Now you had a secret weapon to use whenever Lambert was being particularly silent.

Who needs couples therapy when some simple rope can do the trick?


End file.
